


Droit du seigneur

by catarrhini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Daddy Kink, F/M, Family Drama, Father-Daughter Relationship, Ginny is overbearing, Incest, Loss of Virginity, Parent/Child Incest, Weasley girl cousins up to no good, Wizarding World strip clubs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8607457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catarrhini/pseuds/catarrhini
Summary: Lily and Lorcan have never... done it. On the cusp of her wedding, she can't stop thinking about an arcane Wizarding wedding night ritual.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lily's Request](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4384106) by [LRThunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LRThunder/pseuds/LRThunder). 



> Thanks to LRThunder for letting me take her clever basic concept and run with it wildly in another direction.

“Mum’s driving me crazy,” she sighed as she slid the glass door shut behind herself. 

The night was hot and damp with humidity, and she could already see the slight glisten of sweat on her father’s brow as she sidled up next to him, leaning against the hewn balcony rail. He made a quick motion with his right hand and hid it from view down by his hip. She rolled her eyes. The moon had just begun waning, and its bright light illuminated the splashing ocean waves a stone’s throw away from the family’s summer chalet. 

“What now?” He mumbled, gaze cast out on the vast ocean.

“She won’t stop tweaking my stupid dress,” she said. “I keep telling her I want something simple, but she’s not hearing it.”

“She’s just excited for the wedding, Lily, dear,” he said softly, trying to disguise the cloud of tobacco smoke that came issuing forth from his lungs by twisting around in a fake stretching motion. Lily huffed an unamused laugh.

“I already know you smoke, Mr. Potter,” she admonished. “You can hide it from mum and the _Prophet_ , but I’m not exactly blind.” The dark-haired man looked down at his daughter with a grudging smile that seemed to say _Our little secret, okay?_ He held the cigarette up to his lips and took another drag. She rolled her head from side to side, relieving little tension, and continued, “Anyway, it’s not her bloody wedding.” He exhaled slowly, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Might as well be, Elle,” he said with a glum smirk. “You know what she’s like. She’s a Weasley woman. Should’ve seen your nan back in the day.” Lily leaned with her forearms braced against the balcony rail. She rubbed the bridge of her nose fiercely and sighed shakily. He considered her for a moment. Sardonically, he quipped, “Ever considered just giving up? Letting her have her way? It’s only three more days.”

“Don’t be wry, Daddy,” she admonished, rounding on him with a glare. “It’s annoying.”

“It works for me,” he laughed, and he slid his hand around her waist, pulling her in for an affectionate side hug. She leaned her head against his shoulder and breathed in his cologne of cedar, citron and musk, a scent so deeply rooted in her earliest memories. It was warmth and security. It was butterfly kisses and cuddles. It was her hero, Harry Potter.

After a while of holding his girl like this, he asked, “What can I do to help?”

“You mean with mum?” She asked stonily. He grinned against the top of her head. She shifted against him and looked up into his eyes, pleading dramatically, “Distract her.” Harry chuckled. “Or distract me. Whatever keeps me from murdering her.”

“Or her from murdering you?” He quipped. Lily was unamused. He took a final drag of his cigarette and snuffed it out. He slipped his wand from the wand pocket of his jacket before he Banished the butt and Scourgified the taint of smoke from his fingers and clothes. He stored the wand and braced the back of Lily’s neck, his hand tickled by the errant tendrils that had fallen from her messy bun. Pressing a soft kiss to her temple, he promised, “I’ll do my best, Elle.”

She shivered despite the heat of the night.

 

Lily tossed and turned in her bed. She slung her arm over her eyes to block out the hot morning sun that came screaming into the room in horrid beams. She could hear Rose still snoring in her bed on the other side of the cramped room. She’d been groggily chasing some phantom lover laughing down the corridors of her dreams, wrapped in shadow but for laughing green eyes when a sudden sound jarred her awake. As she kicked the sweaty quilt off her legs, she thought miserably that every single inch of the Burrow was too cramped, and her mother was a horrible monster for having demanded the Weasley women all spend the days leading to the wedding bunking in their teetering ancestral home. The woman had nagged for three solid weeks about family tradition this and ungrateful daughters that until all the cousins had finally caved. Lily normally had no trouble putting her foot down with anyone, but Ginny Weasley had a knack for guilt tripping her children that knew no limits. She stretched the kink out of her neck and yanked her rumpled nightgown back into place. She’d give anything to be back to spending her nights in her bed with Lorcan.

The din coming from the living room downstairs was becoming worrisome. There was an onslaught of electronic beeping followed by an exasperated bark: “Ronald Weasley, I swear to Hecate, if you don’t put down that _bloody_ contraption and help us, I’m going to hex your eyes out!” 

Lily shook her head with a grudging smirk. So, Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron had already arrived. Lily grabbed her pillow and threw it across the room. It landed with a thud against Rose’s slumbering head. The girl jerked to life and with an offended huff, she groggily whined, “The hell, Lil? I’m sleeping.”

“Your mum’s here,” Lily said, bending over to wiggle into a pair of dark jeans. “And she’s not in a good mood.”

“When is she ever?” Rose groused, untangling from her bedclothes. “The old fuddie duddies down at the Ministry have her pulling her hair out. Hard to get anything done as the youngest progressive Minister for Magic in centuries.”

“Seems more directed at your father, this time,” Lily quipped, pulling on a navy blouse and scooping her hair up into a bun.

“Pop Pop gave him his old iPad,” she said as she fought to tug on a sundress. “Dad won’t put it down, and Mother’s quite cross about it. Keeps cursing about mad birds or something.” Yanking on some socks and combat boots, she looked up at her cousin with a suspicious grin. “Say, I didn’t hear you come in last night. Off visiting Lorcan for some pre-wedding night hanky panky?”

Lily blushed, ducking down on the pretense of searching for something under the bed. “Went to Mum and Dad’s for a little while last night. I needed a break from all of-” She gestured around the room vaguely. “ _This_.” 

“At least you’re gonna have Aunt Luna as a mother-in-law,” Rose said with an air of benevolent jealousy. “It doesn’t get much easier than that. Teddy got stuck with Aunt Fleur mothering over him all the time. Speaking of, how come Victoire and Dominique got the nice guest room?” 

“They’re older,” Lily groaned. “They’ll always get the nice room. Doesn’t matter _whose_ wedding this is.” A rapid knocking sounded on the door. “Come in!” A short, stout witch with wild grey curls and heavy worry lines etched into her face leaned in.

“You girls had best get moving!” She ordered. “We’ve got to get everything ready for Harry’s birthday lunch.” A loud banging sound issued from further down the winding hall. All three women flinched at the jarring noise.

“Molly!” Pop Pop called from downstairs. “Those confounded Hinky Punks are back.”

“Coming, Arthur!” She called back, but before she turned to leave, she looked to Lily and said, “Now, Lily, dear, you know I hate to interfere-” Rose snorted. “But your mother really would like for you to put a little more effort into touching up that dress with her.” Her eyes were pleading. “You know it means the world to her. It’s tradition, dear.”

“Yes, Nan,” Lily replied obediently, trying not to smirk at Rose’s rolling eyes.

“Now, hurry up, you two!” She ordered, all eighty years of her life showing in the heavy sigh that followed. “We’ve still so much to do!”

“Remind me never to get married,” Rose grumbled.

 

Lunch was a jolly affair, if only because it granted the chattering gathering a short reprieve from wedding preparations. Lily looked around the massive table that had been Extended and placed out in the backyard of the Burrow. She glanced from her smiling parents, to the veritable wall of ginger that was the Weasley side of the family (all aunts and uncles and cousins). Top Ministry officials had been invited, of course, as well as the old Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, who in all truth made Lily feel nervous and small again. To Lily’s left sat her beloved Lorcan, flanked by his doting parents, Luna and Rolf.

The table had been cleared of plates and empty food trays, and Nan was busily readying the massive chocolate birthday cake she’d somehow found time to make by hand just for the occasion. Two green, glittering candles with sputtering purple spark flames showed “50” broadly and proudly. Lily glanced at her father sitting across the table from her, and he was laughing at some joke Albie had told. For a moment, Lily could see him as he must have been once, young and mischievous, the terror of Gryffindor.

Pop Pop held up his water goblet and clanged a fork against its hobnailed side several times, and the conversation died down. “May I have your attention! Before we serve the cake, I’d like to invite the Minister herself to give a speech for our honored birthday boy.” Molly rolled her eyes good-naturedly at all the unnecessary pomp. “Pardon me, birthday _man_.” Aunt Hermione sighed sweetly at Pop Pop, but he ignored it.

She stood and cleared her throat. “Well, I have had the pleasure and privilege of knowing Harry Potter since our very first day at Hogwarts nearly forty years ago.” She paused for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s hard to comprehend how so much time has passed us by, even when so much has changed in that time. Harry has accomplished greatness in this span that most could not achieve in a lifetime.” A smattering of applause and approval echoed around the table. “And yet, I know that the proudest moment of his life is soon to be upon us.” She turned to Lily. “His little Lily has finally grown up, and I know that he (and we) couldn’t be prouder.” The table raised their glasses and toasted to Lily. She blushed and flickered an apologetic glance her father’s way. He was smiling warmly, raising his glass to toast his only girl. Aunt Hermione continued, “To Harry, on your fiftieth birthday, we salute you and wish you another fifty years and even more!”

A loud chorus of “To Harry!” and “Fifty more!” rang through the group. Nan began furiously serving up gargantuan cake slices. 

 

Lunch had scarce ended by the time Ginny rounded on her daughter, who’d taken refuge in the tent the uncles had set up for the wedding reception. “Here you are!” She said in a huff. “There’s no time to play hide and seek. I’ve just sent Albie and James to the florist to check on our order. Now, I just need you to-” She scanned the long scroll of parchment in her hand and ticked off an item on the incredibly long list with a flourish of her quill. “Have we decided on a hairstyle yet?”

“Mum, just a simple bun-” Lily began to plead, but Ginny bulldozed her immediately.

“You know Victoire, Dominique and Aunt Fleur and Aunt Luna will be so heartbroken if you don’t let them style your hair and makeup!” Her mother countered her. 

“Mum, I think you care way more than Fleur and Luna ever-”

“Lily Luna Potter!” Ginny gasped, clutching the agenda to her chest. “Your own godmother! You would deprive her of this honor? How you could be so insensitive, I’ll never-”

“There my girls are!” Came Harry’s welcome voice as he strode across the makeshift ballroom floor to join his wife and daughter. He embraced his wife from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder, gazing down at Lily’s flushed face. Ginny began to bark orders to Harry, but he interrupted her, “Now, I know that we have some serious business to sort, but it’s my birthday, and I demand to steal Lily away for just a little while. Surely, the whole wedding party won’t collapse in her absence.”

“Harry,” Ginny reprimanded him, turning around in his arms to glare straight into his eyes. “We’re too busy for your silly birthday ritual right now! I’m so sorry, love, but… _Timing_!” She seemed half desperate, and he laughed and gave her a deep kiss. She drew back, flustered.

“Be fair, Gin,” he reasoned. “You have your traditions. Lil and I have ours. Just fifteen minutes, and I’ll return the bride-to-be unscathed,” he begged. “Fleur and her girls aren’t even here yet, and besides, I just ran into Rolf and persuaded him to brew a pot of that Turkish coffee you love so much.” She sighed meaningfully and wavered before finally caving.

“Fine,” she groaned. “Fifteen minutes! Then she’s due in hair and makeup!” Lily leaped and kissed her father gratefully on the cheek as her mother beat a hasty retreat to the Burrow’s kitchen, which was by now teeming with stacks of packages and trays with various cooling and heating and homeostasis charms cast on them.

“You looked like you needed a break,” he said warmly. She took a deep breath and released a huge, dramatic sigh. “Come on, now. There’s still the matter of a certain birthday tradition. You up for a quick round of pick-up Quidditch?”

“Aren’t I always?”

 

“Rolf Scamander, you’re an absolute artist with a coffee pot,” Ginny hummed against the hot mug of Turkish blend in her hands. “Shame we didn’t think to serve this with the cake at lunch.” Rolf smiled warmly and rinsed the pot in the sink before turning to pick up his own mug to gingerly take a sip.

“Harry seemed to think you could use a pick-me-up,” he answered.

“He was right,” she admitted. “As usual.” The two stood in silence in front of the kitchen sink for a while gazing out the window at the trees and Dirigible Plums (an early wedding gift from Luna and Rolf to the Weasleys) swaying in the gentle summer breeze. In a flash, Harry zoomed as though from nowhere up into the air on the back of a beat up old broom, followed swiftly by his fleet daughter, a smile of determination and avarice lighting her face. A quick flash of gold shone high above their heads, and they both shot upwards. It was a miss, but they remained in hot pursuit.

“The acorn didn’t fall far from the tree with that one,” Rolf said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, she’s always been Daddy’s girl,” Ginny said with an amused huff. “His little shadow since she could crawl.” She took a deep drink of the rich, brown coffee.

“Any separation anxiety?” He asked with a smirk. Ginny turned to him, a question in her eyes. Rolf sobered. “Oh, you know, cutting the apron strings. Joining the adult world. That sort of thing.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Ginny answered mildly. “Lily’s perfectly mature for her age.” Rolf looked like he was about to speak, but he thought better of it. He sipped his coffee. Ginny pursed her lips. “What, Rolf?”

“I’m afraid I really…” He began, unsure of how to continue. “I’m afraid it’s rather none of our business, either of us.” He took a hasty sip again and winced as he burned his tongue.

“What aren’t you telling me, Rolf Scamander?” Ginny asked point blank. “We’ve worked together at the _Prophet_ for years. You know I’m very good at finding things out.” He backed up with playful surprise. He chuckled awkwardly before sobering once again.

“It’s really nothing, Ginevra, I’m sure,” he continued drolly. “Just that… Well, I overheard him, Lorcan, talking with one of his friends from America the other day, and I just happened to hear… Oh, you’ll think it’s silly, really.”

“Spill it, Scamander.”

“Lily and Lorcan… haven’t… made sexual congress with each other,” he finally dragged out, quite miserably. “In the two and a half years they’ve been dating. Nothing.” Ginny flushed and instantly moved to take a sip of coffee, accidentally spilling some down her chin. She wiped it away with an embroidered tea towel.

“Well,” she sputtered, “I raised my children to be very principled adults.”

“Oh, come off it, Gin,” he scoffed. “In this day and age? You know that’s unnatural. I seem to recall quite the whirlwind of gossip when you didn’t go back to finish school after the Battle at Hogwarts.” Her eyes narrowed. “No one accused you of being unprincipled even back then, if I recall correctly, and that was the bleeding _nineties_.”

“You couldn’t possibly know about that!” She challenged him.

“Just because I was at Ilvermorny doesn’t mean I didn’t have an ear to the rest of the Wizarding World,” he said with a smug grin before he drained the mug in his hands. “Especially during those dark times.” Ginny set her half-full mug down and shrugged dismissively.

“So Ginny and Lorcan haven’t slept together. So what?” She challenged. As she spoke those words, the two of them just noticed a very eagerly encroaching intruder tiptoeing down the stairs into the kitchen.

“ _Holy_ Dumbledore!” The young redhead crowed. “I’m never going to let her live this down!” He cackled as he jogged out the door into the back garden.

“Hugo!” Ginny shouted. “Hugo Granger-Weasley, you come back here this instant!” She chased after him, and Rolf immediately regretted having let the cat out of the bag about his son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law.

 

“Daddy, you’re gonna die!” Lily shouted fiercely as the two dove headlong towards the flitting Snitch as it whipped through trees and up around the highest, leaning turret of the Burrow. They were neck and neck, and Lily swung her elbow out, catching her father in the ribs, knocking him off guard. He tumbled away for a split second, but it was all Lily needed to close the distance between the end of her broomstick and her winged prize. 

She tumbled to a cushioned stop down in the cornfield that lined the far edge of the property. Drawing herself up into a sitting position, she rubbed at her now aching, skinned elbow. She knew her mother would chew her out about that the second she noticed the raw skin. Banged up joints weren't becoming of a bride, she thought with a tired rolling of her eyes. Harry glided to a graceful stop in front of her and lithely dismounted. He stood gazing down at her with a calculating glare. She laughed at him. “You’re a cheat, Lily Potter.”

“Prove it,” she laughed, rising to snatch the old broomstick from the tall stalks of corn that nested them. He eventually thawed and laughed with her.

“Would if I could,” he said with an eye roll. “Just like every other time.” Roughly, he seized her shoulders and pulled her up close, bending to press a soft kiss to her damp forehead.

“Daddy-” She sighed. He looked down into her eyes, now stormy with worry.

“What is it, angel?” He asked. She froze. He could feel it in the way her arms locked in his grasp.

At length, she forced a cheap smile onto her face and tried to laugh. “Just… nothing.”

“Lily,” he said, low and sweet, pulling her into a firm hug.

“I’m nervous,” she whispered against his chest. He rubbed the stubble of his chin against her cheek. She shivered at the tender abrasion, itching to sink her fingers into the stiff material of his jacket like she had done so many times as a little girl.

“What can I do?” He asked, his voice a soft rumble. 

“Can I have one of your cigarettes?” She asked, her voice almost lost in the lull of the corn stalks swaying in the warm breeze. He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes, calculating. He battled with himself for a moment. Lily pouted. “Please?”

“Fine,” he finally sighed before adding, “Just don’t tell your mother.” She perked up as he slid a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his jacket. He slipped her a cigarette, and when she had placed it between her lips, he clicked an old-fashioned metal lighter near the end of it, shielding the flame from the breeze with his open palm.

“A muggle… thing?” She asked as she coughed through her first inhale. He took a long drag as he lit his own cigarette. He sat down in the small clearing she’d made with her crash landing. She joined him.

“A lighter,” he corrected her, blowing a thin trail of smoke away from her. “A Zippo, to be exact. Something to remind me of my roots, I guess.” She inhaled again, but this time, she didn’t cough. Already, Harry could see her shoulders relaxing, and the line of worry disappeared from her forehead. “I had a godfather. Long ago. After he died, I was digging through all the things he’d left me…” He flipped the lighter up and down between each of his clever fingers. “I found this in the very back of his desk drawer. It’s the only thing of his I kept. That was a very long time ago.” Lily was silent as he spoke, watching the sadness in his eyes as they unblinkingly trained on the device in his hand. At length, he remembered himself and turned to her with a brave grin. “Anyway, life marches on as always. He’d be beside himself with joy to see how well the Potters are doing now.”

“Are you talking about Sirius?” She asked softly, her hand coming to rest on top of his where it lay in the soil. His smile tightened, and Lily dearly wished she could bring some of the light back to it, like with the flicking of a Zippo.

“Aye, Sirius,” he said. “Sirius Black. Wish you could have met him. He’d have loved you.” 

“As much as you do?” She asked sweetly.

“No one loves you as much as I do.” He squeezed her hand in his own and tried to flash her another of his winning grins, but his voice had grown hollow, and he looked away. They sat in silence for a while, taking the occasional drag of a cigarette until there was nothing left but dimming embers. The afternoon sun was high above them, radiating the pair with a stringent haze.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” Lily said after a while. He turned to her again.

“I can’t imagine whatever for.”

“For stealing your thunder today?” She said, her cheeks tinging red with inexplicable shyness. He threw back his head in sudden laughter.

“What, because of my birthday?” His smile was wide and kind, and his eyes crinkled with the full blast of his amusement. She shrugged miserably. He pulled her into a firm embrace. “Ah, angel. I’ve had forty nine other birthdays already. Weddings are once in a lifetime.”

“Hopefully,” she grumbled.

“No ‘hopefully’ about it,” he said, planting a kiss to the top of her head. “If Lorcan does anything to mess this up, well, I can’t say what I would do, but I know that you have practically a Quidditch team of Weasley cousins who’d hex him to Mars and back.” She huffed a pleased little laugh and was about to thank him for the confidence boost when their little cocoon was ruptured by a call from the Burrow.

“Lily! Harry!” Ginny called. “That’s far more than fifteen minutes! Lily! Where the devil...”

Harry nudged his daughter, who rolled her eyes. “Go on, now,” he said, “you have a hair appointment, young lady.” He Vanished their cigarette butts and Scourgified their clothes, in what must have become a ritual for him at this point. He pulled her up onto her feet and led her through the field, their brooms resting on his shoulder.

“What do you think she’d do if I just shaved it all off?” Lily quipped in a rare display of maliciousness.

“Go for it, Elle,” Harry replied enthusiastically. “Funerals are _much_ less expensive than weddings!” She shoved him hard, and he laughed again, his rich voice filling Lily's chest with warm, private joy.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh, Lily, dear, it’s just splendid!” Nan cried, clutching her hands together in front of her heart. Lily felt like an animal at the zoo, surrounded as she was by her mother, grandmother, Aunt Fleur and Luna. Dominique and Victoire lounged on Nan’s four poster behind them, tapping away at their cell phones. The first few hours she’d been sitting in the chair under their ministrations, she had felt exposed, clad as she was in the bustier she was to wear under her wedding dress and a pair of peachy satin sleeping shorts with white lace trim on the hems. “Take a look!”

Lily had a very uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The last six hairstyles they’d tried had been unmitigated disasters. First, Luna had taken the reigns and crafted her hair into some kind of unicorn-themed sandcastle-esque monstrosity. Then, Fleur took over to whip up some overly complex updo composed of at least two hundred small braids. The next several attempts had fallen flat, either metaphorically or literally or both, and Lily held out very little hope for this one faring much better. She had long ago begun counting down the time until when her hen night was supposed to begin in earnest and she could leave all this makeover nonsense behind.

She had argued until nearly blue in the face that _no_ , she had never worn an updo in her life and that _no_ , her wedding was not the day to start flirting with such disastrous experimentation. Ginny had simply waved her concerns away with a sigh and a surreptitious rolling of her eyes. “ _Dear_ ," she practically groaned, "it’s Wizarding tradition. The Muggles have their white gowns; we have our fancy updos.”

“Mum, it’s not _me_!” She finally insisted, her voice cracking in anger. She realized that her hands were shaking a moment before her attendants did. She smoothed her palms over her bare knees. Only then did the three women take a moment to huddle away from Lily to regroup. Fleur had taken much less time winding this current hairstyle together, and as they spun her chair around in front of the vanity, her heart seized in her chest.

The top half of her hair had been loosely gathered in a romantic knot down low, the remaining hair wound into cascading, soft ringlets that fell all around her shoulders. “Well?” The three women asked in unison, brows raised expectantly. Lily choked up, not sure what to say.

“I look…” She took a deep breath. “I look dreamy.”

“So, it’s a yes?” Ginny baited her. Lily looked at her mother with teary eyes and nodded rapidly.

“I love it.” The three women congratulated themselves for a moment before Luna bent at the waist to begin peppering Lily's pale face with makeup.

“Just a dab’ll do ya,” she said in a far-off voice. “Don’t need much when you have skin this smooth.” She paused for a moment, eyes focused on something out in space. “Have you been using the Granthsplanx Tonic I recommended? Great for oil control and for attracting passing Bucklets. Good luck, those Bucklets are.”

“No, Aunt Luna,” Lily answered apologetically. “It completely slipped my mind.”

“Ah, well, that’ll be the Nargles’ work, I’d reckon,” she answered, matter-of-fact. She finished lining Lily’s eyes with a soft, grey charcoal and swiped a sheer, tinted balm across the young woman’s lips. “There," she proclaimed. "Lovely. Not too little, not too much. It suits you.”

Lily stared at her reflection for a moment, taken aback at how much difference a little bit of makeup made on her face. “Aunt Luna, it’s really great.” With wide eyes, she looked up at the woman smiling over her shoulder. “Really.”

“We need a male opinion!” Her mother said suddenly, and Lily cast a glance around the room for something to cover her bare shoulders. “Fleur, do be a darling, and go fetch Harry! I don’t think he’s gone back to the house yet.”

“I’d be ‘appy to,” she said in a flurry of movement, and before Lily could lodge a protest, Fleur was halfway down the stairs to the sitting room, calling “‘Arry! ‘Arry! Come ‘ere!” 

The tapping of footsteps came rising up the stairs, and Harry ambled into the room behind Fleur, mumbling, “Ron and his damned iPad. I swear, it’s like talking to a wa-” Then the women cleared out of the way, revealing Lily sitting nervously in the vanity chair, arms crossed tight in front of her, looking up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, and he froze, his breath caught in his chest.

A moment passed, the women watching Harry’s face anxiously. “Well?” Lily finally asked, quietly. “Do I pass muster?” He swallowed, looking down at his hands.

“You look-” he whispered. Then, clearing his throat, he turned to the women standing around them and said, “Well done, ladies. You’ve polished our little diamond in the rough. I’m sure Lorcan will love it.” With that, he turned on his heel immediately and retreated downstairs.

Lily fought to swallow the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

 

Lorcan had that look in his eyes, the one he always got when he’d been out at the pub flirting harmlessly with other girls and had come home immediately to try to tempt his fiancée into finally giving him what he wanted more than anything. It was the look that always was followed by one of frustration and defeat. Lily hated both those looks, not least of all because of the guilt that came welling up in her chest.

“What are you doing all alone, Angel?” He said softly as he entered the room. Lily turned away from the window where she stood watching the sun setting. She smiled at him as he slipped into place behind her, his hands sliding down low over her hip bones. He placed a warm, chaste kiss to the nape of her neck, pressed another an inch higher, then another, then another until his lips were pressed against her ear, and his hot breath dragged a dull shiver from her body. “Any scoundrel could find you like this…” He whispered, fingers tightening on her hips. “And have his way with you.” Her heart thumped in her chest as she melted back against his tall, lean frame.

“Well, it’s a good thing I was found by a gentleman,” she answered breathily. “I can’t imagine how my husband would feel on our wedding night were some rogue to taint my virtue.” He chuckled, low and velvet.

“And what if I’m finding it harder to be a gentleman?” He gingerly nipped at her earlobe. She whined. “What if I lost control of myself… took you against this window, where anyone could see?” He rolled his hips against her. She seized. He immediately pulled away with an apologetic smile. “Lily-”

“I’m sorry, Lorcan,” she whispered miserably. “Not yet.”

“Lily, I’m trying so hard to be understanding with you, but-”

“I know, and you can’t begin to understand how grateful I am for that,” she said, pressing a tender kiss to his temple. “I don’t deserve you or your patience.” He sighed and sat down on the side of the bed.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he took another deep, frustrated sigh. “Of course, you deserve it.” He looked up at her and reached out for her hands, pulling her closer to stand between his parted knees. “I just… _need_ you.” She could see the weariness in his kind, brown eyes. She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him against her belly in a sweet embrace. He held her tight.

“The wedding night’ll be different,” she swore. “I’ll be ready.” She pulled away and looked down into his eyes. He smiled half-heartedly. She bent down and pressed a reassuring kiss against his lips. “Now, off with you. The boys are no doubt waiting for you, and the girls will be here shortly for me.”

“Don’t you dare fall in love with any strippers,” he ordered, fighting the laugh bubbling up in his chest as he made for the door. Lily rolled her eyes.

“Unless something goes horribly wrong,” she said, “there won’t _be_ any strippers to fall in love with!”

“Lil, Roxanne just got here!” Dominique announced as she appeared in the doorway. “Ugh, Lorcan, go away! This is Lil’s night. No boys allowed!” He raised his hands up and cut a quick retreat just before Dominique bellowed, “Roxy! We’re upstairs!” The room was admittedly uncomfortably full as the girl cousins and friends of Lily’s filed in and began squeezing into short, tight dresses and applying makeup and hair charms. Lily had nearly been stabbed three times in the eye by errant wand tips.

“Sorry I’m late, Lils,” Roxanne said as she wove through the room. She leaned down to give her favorite cousin a squeeze. “We _just_ got back from our trip to Algeria, and already Freddie’s downstairs with Hugo and Louis being idiots and causing trouble. Where’s Wrangler Ted when you need him?”

“I left him at home with the baby,” Victoire said. 

“And where have you abandoned dear, sweet Lorcan this evening?” Roxanne demanded in her low, puckish voice. 

“Mum had the brilliant idea to combine the stag party with dad’s birthday party, so Albie, James and Lysander probably already dragged him off to Dumbledore-knows-where,” Lily explained with a long-suffering sigh. 

“Aunt Ginny’ll be banishing the rest of the boys back to Uncle Harry’s soon enough, I imagine," Dominique wagered. "Then we can get this hen night started proper.” The girls cheered raucously before falling into bouts of self-conscious laughter.

Rose dug around in her bag and promptly pulled out a bottle of Ogden’s Finest Firewhiskey. “Your poor dad," she sighed, "spending his fiftieth birthday with a bunch of twenty-somethings.” Lily grimaced sympathetically as she applied the finishing touches to her Depilatory Charm. Rose popped the cork out of the whiskey bottle and took a swig.

“Ugh, Rose,” Dominique sniffed in disdain. “How can you drink that rubbish?” Rose grinned dangerously and tilted Dominique’s head back.

“Easy. Just like this,” she answered. “Open wide.” Scrunching her forehead in disbelief, Dominique reluctantly opened her mouth, and Rose poured a shot down her throat. Dominique came back up retching and gasping dramatically.

“Revolting!” She moaned.

“Want another?” Rose slyly asked, and Lily was struck with the amusing thought that Rose was sometimes rather dashing, as far as a woman could be considered such a thing.

Dominique heaved a rather pointed sigh, but then she leaned back again, saying, “Yeah, why not?”

The next half an hour shot by with the girls taking turns polishing off the bottle of Ogden’s and making loose plans for what the night held in store. 

“ _No strip clubs_!” Lily commanded gravely, and she soon began to lose track of how much she’d had to drink, but she knew she was starting to feel really nice, and when Roxy told them it was time to Apparate to London to go clubbing, she was remarkably happy to go along.

Somewhere between the fourth and fifth club they’d hopped, the alcohol was beginning to wear off, and Lily began questioning why the hell she’d allowed them to drag her out dancing in Muggle London and just why the hell she’d decided to stop drinking so early in the night. She soon realized that the other girls were casting furtive glances back and forth when they thought she wasn't looking, and had she not known better, Lily would have thought they were using Legilimency on each other. They were most certainly up to something.

“ _What_?” She demanded. Dominique burst into giggles.

“Nothing, _ma cherie_ ,” Victoire answered, soothing her with a sloppy shoulder rub. Lily hadn’t seen Victoire this drunk since before her own wedding a few years back. “Let’s go dance, witches.” The girl gang wound their way down the sidewalk on the journey to the next venue. 

“I don’t like your tone, not one bit,” Lily griped, but she followed her cousins’ lead, trying to ignore the smug smirks they kept flashing back and forth between themselves. She turned to Roxy as they walked, begging for some kind of sign. Roxy feigned an innocent expression before rolling her eyes and leaning against her cousin, throwing an arm around her shoulder as they trailed behind.

“Because I love you the most,” Roxy whispered, “and because I know you’ll be a good sport, I feel compelled to tell you they have elected to ignore the ‘no strip club’ order.” Lily groaned. “Please don’t make me regret having told you.” Lily shook her head in reluctant resignation as the group finally came to a stop before a nondescript black door, ever so slightly too narrow and ever so slightly too inconspicuous for her to have noticed until they were stopped right in front of it. Rose tapped the tip of her wand against a small symbol etched into the black paint on the lintel of the door. 

Suddenly, the bricks and boards of the building began shifting and expanding. The Muggles passing behind the group of witches on the pavement didn’t seem to notice. At length, a broad, bulbous warlock dressed head to toe in black robes waved open the door and gave the group of women a speculative gaze.

“ID?” He gruffly asked. Each of the young women pointed the handles of their wands in the direction of the bouncer, and he cast a quick, subtle spell in their direction. They all paused for a moment as a small spark of golden light jumped to each wand handle before turning green and leaping back into the tip of the bouncer's wand. He finally nodded and jerked his head towards a hallway to his right. They passed through a shimmery veil in the doorway that looked like water but felt like the kiss of butterfly wings on their skin before entering the main room.

When Lily saw the men on the various stages around the room, her stomach dropped and she turned to Victoire. “I need a drink,” she said drily, and Victoire disappeared to order drinks for all of them. Grabbing Rose’s hand, she whispered in her ear, “Aren’t you worried someone’ll recognize us?” Rose threw back her head laughing.

“No, babe,” she chuckled sweetly. “That veil we passed through was a Disillusionment charm. We’re fine." She squeezed her cousin's hand. "C'mon, you’re not getting married until the day after tomorrow. You have _got_ to loosen up in the mean time, princess.” Lily almost started arguing, but Victoire slipped a drink into her hand, and Lily knocked it back almost in one go. She wiped her mouth dry with the back of her hand, and Rose pat her on the back, cheering her on. The pat turned into several shoving hands guiding Lily down to a seat at the foot of the stage.

“Rosie says they do Juiced shows here,” Dominique said with flushing cheeks.

“Juiced?” Lily asked. Rose laughed again in that easy, nonchalant way of hers.

“They Polyjuice into different celebrities,” she explained. “Now, shut up and stop ignoring this beautiful man grinding for you.” Lily turned her attention back to the stage and gazed up at the oiled beefcake dancing in little silver underpants in front of her. She swore she could hear Dominique squealing at the man, which Lily found to be frankly shameful for someone almost in her thirties. Not least of all because the man wasn't that much to look at. Lily felt her attention drifting until the song faded, and the man retreated backstage.

The lights lowered and a strange, elegant electro/baroque composition began to thump softly in the speakers, cello punctuated by the pulse of computer programming. Slowly, a man clad in French Revolution-era pastel silk stockings and satin breeches stalked onstage, his head and shoulders shrouded by a dark satin roquelaure cloak cropped to the elbows. He was shorter and paler than the one before, but he had an intriguing line of black hair running from his navel down to disappear beneath his pants.

“ _Merlin_ , if he starts waltzing, I'll lose my shit,” Roxy practically barked, and Lily could see the man trying not to laugh as he snaked his hips in a sinewy sashay, despite most of his face still agonizingly guarded by the cloak hood. Lily was shocked to feel herself growing hot around the collar when the man Vanished his breeches, leaving his muscular legs exposed where his stocking socks stopped just below the knee and the frilly, satin g-string began. She didn’t know much on the subject, but even she could see he had a big cock. She felt heat settle low in her belly, a tightness she liked the feeling of. His body was nice, just like she’d imagined Lorcan looked like every time she’d pulled away from his advances, desperate for more but too afraid to pursue it.

She suddenly felt dizzyingly furious for having denied herself pleasure for so long, when all she wanted right now was for this man dry humping the air in his silly, fancy underthings to just throw her over the sticky tabletop and undress her with his teeth right there in front of everyone. The song changed, and the man slid down off the low stage and ever so slowly sauntered over to her. Her cousins started to cheer obnoxiously around her as the cloaked man reached a hand to her shoulder for balance and straddled her lap, the heavy warmth of his strong, pale thighs against hers teasing a heart-stuttering tingle from her slick pussy. She felt the heat rising up her neck and realized with a flush of embarrassment that her face must have grown rosy with desire. When he rolled his hips against her crotch, his satin-clad cock grinding against her, she fought back a groan but lost the battle against the shiver that shook her nearly senseless.

“Take off the cloak!” Roxy howled, fighting back laughter, and Ginny felt the heretofore unknown spark of disgust for her interloping family. She wished she knew a charm to make them disappear so she could spread her legs and let this mysteriously familiar man have his way with her body. _Merlin_ , what would Lorcan think? The flush of desire in her cheeks gave way to shame. Defiantly, she ignored it, digging her nails into the arm rests of the chair as the man dipped his hips hard against her, finally coaxing out a moan she’d been desperately holding back. She could just barely see his lips twisting into a pleased smirk. He leaned forward, and her heart leapt when his hand found her waist and his lips met her ear She whimpered, no longer trying to fight against what this man was doing to her fraying nerves. Lorcan had never left her feeling so goddamn hot for it.

“Well, should I?” He whispered. She didn’t trust her voice. She nodded shakily. He smiled again. “You do it for me, baby.” She slowly lifted her hands to the hood cloaking his face, and pressing her fingers to the smooth satin, she slid the fabric back, and the eyes that met hers were warm, chocolate brown. The shocked gasps behind her snapped her to attention, and she realized with blooming horror that the face peering down at hers was the exact mirror image of her father’s. She froze. “So,” he murmured, all smug haughtiness in his mistaken appraisal of the women’s surprise. He ground his cock against her thigh and reached for the strings fastening his straining G-string. “Want to see even more of the great Harry Potter, sexy?”

“Lil, we’re going,” Roxy screeched, pushing the man off of the girl’s lap. “Sorry, sir!” She shouted at the man. “But you should really consider going to uni or something.” The cousins and friends bodily shoved Lily to the door, and she followed in a daze as the girls silently stalked to the next club. 

As soon as they entered the dark, loud, pulsing den of the next venue, Lily quickly excused herself to the loo while the other girls went to find a table and strong drinks. Locking herself in a bathroom stall, she pulled her wand from her Extended clutch and Apparated out of the shit hole with a loud pop, almost inaudible over the din of the song banging through the building.

 

She wasn’t sure where she was going to Reapparate. With any luck, she’d avoid a seriously Splinching. Her body surged with mixed relief and apprehension when she found herself at the very end of the path leading up to her parents’ house. Again, counting on her luck, the lads would be gone, and she’d have the house to herself. She’d break into her father’s liquor cabinet and steal any cigarettes he’d stashed away from her mother’s snooping nose. As she disengaged the wards on the front door, she called out, “Anyone home?”

Silence rang out through the halls, and she ventured into the den, where she slid open the doors of the liquor cabinet and snatched a bottle of Ogden’s Finest. She took a slug before realizing that his usual cigarette stash was nowhere to be found. She cursed under her breath and stumbled down the hall to the sliding glass door leading to the beachfront patio. She passed the locator clock in the hall, and saw with a sinking feeling that the hand with her father’s face rested on _Home_. “Fuck,” she hissed.

As she opened the door, she found the man standing at the railing of the patio, a cigarette in his hand, which he quickly hid from view.

“Subtle,” she drawled.

“Oh,” he sighed. “It’s just you.” He took a drag.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” she groused.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He looked at her with an unappreciative glower.

“Yeah, I know.” She drank from the bottle she'd pilfered as she came to stand next to him.

“That kinda night, huh?” He asked, an understanding expression on his lined face.

“You have no idea,” she moaned. He dug the pack of smokes from his robe pocket and offered her one. She took it gratefully and allowed him to light it, his hand cupped over the flame. The second he drew closer to her, the image of the stripper in her lap flashed in her mind, and she nearly pulled away from him.

“Yeah, me too,” he sympathized. She huffed. He really had no clue what fresh hell she’d just endured. He simply stood there, all understanding smiles, crinkling green eyes, and wild salt and pepper hair.

“Yeah, sure,” she said dismissively. “Where are the boys?”

“Off doing boy things, I imagine.” He breathed in a drag of his cigarette. Reaching for the bottle in her hand, he asked, “Would you be so kind?”

“Yeah, here.” She relinquished her liquid lifeline and watched as the man drank a long, slow slug of the burning draught. He grimaced.

“You know, I never drink this stuff,” he said. “Just keep it for guests. I’ve always been a wine man.”

“Yeah, wine and bitch beer,” she snorted.

“Aloysius’ Sour Ale is not bitch beer,” he said sullenly.

“ _Please_ , it’s practically Pixie Pop,” she cajoled him.

“Watch it, Silly Lily, or I’ll write you out of the will.” He smirked when she rolled her eyes at him. The night was cool, and she was grateful she’d not let Roxy take her jacket when the girls went off to find a table.

“Yeah, well, I fucking love whisky,” she said defiantly. “‘Feel the burn.’ That’s the tagline, right?”

“Whisky, fags and a mouth like an Auror,” he drawled. “Hardly the image of a blushing virgin bride.” He laughed at his own joke.

“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving,” she muttered darkly. She took the bottle from him and threw back another deep gulp, the bottle echoing a pleasant sloshing sound. His eyes went wide for a brief moment.

“Oh, I guess I’d just assumed…” He mumbled, running his hand through his hair awkwardly. “I mean, you’ve been living with him and all…”

“He wants it, for sure,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“But you’re not ready?” The man ventured.

“Oh, Dumbledore,” Lily sighed under her breath. “I refuse to talk with my dad about my sex life.” Certainly not after what she'd just been through. She very nearly laughed at the absurdity of the whole evening.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I mentioned it.” He had the good grace to appear thoroughly apologetic.

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird,” she agreed with a wry grin. She took a drag of her cigarette. He followed suit.

“Well, you’ve always said I’m kind of weird,” he chuckled. “I’m just carrying on the tradition.”

“Ugh, don’t talk to me about tradition,” she begged, moving to take another sip of whisky before thinking better of it. “I’ve had more than my fill of fucking traditions lately.”

“Your mum still driving you crazy?”

“As if I could be driven any madder.” He reached a cool hand to her face and stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. She blushed and look out at the beach, the crashing waves lit with moonlight. He breathed deeply the salty air and bitter cigarette smoke.

At length, he softly asked, “So, you gonna tell my why you ditched your hen night?”

She looked at him with an unamused smirk. “You gonna tell me why you ditched your birthday party?” He chuckled.

“It was never meant to be my birthday party, and you know it.” He glanced at her with appraising side eyes. “I got tacked on as an afterthought.”

“You’re not an afterthought, Daddy,” she said seriously, heavy with alcohol and near exhaustion.

“Maybe,” he deferred, voice wistful. “So, why are you here, Lil?”

“I had to get out. Things got weird.” She didn’t feel like explaining herself, but the man was unsatisfied with her cryptic answer.

“Care to elaborate?”

“You don’t want to know, trust me.” Her tone brooked no argument, but the man pushed her anyway.

“Come on, now,” he wheedled. “It can't be all _that_ bad, can it?” Lily turned to face him, practically withering under the force of her formidable reluctance.

“It’s really embarrassing, Dad,” she mumbled.

“Can I make it better?” He asked softly, twining his fingers with hers. "That's my job, after all." She chewed her lip, searching for some kind of explanation that didn’t leave both of them crippled with humiliation.

“You’re, uh, kind of the reason it got that way. More or less.” He looked taken aback, but he quickly schooled his features.

“More or less? And what am I meant to have done?” His voice was hard. She couldn't tell if he was trying to tamp down on his wild curiosity or if he was offended by her tone and the way she yanked her hand away from his touch. 

“Well, not you, _exactly_ ,” she amended. He frowned. “They took me to a strip club.” His eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline, and Lily almost wanted to laugh.

“So, what does that have to do with me?” He cautiously asked.

Lily sighed and snubbed out her cigarette. Harry Vanished it. She took another drink before mumbling, “The dancers Juiced.”

“They…?”

She really didn’t want to explain it, but the man was clearly not sure what she was talking about. “It’s where they Polyjuice into different famous people.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about that happening,” he said. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, and Lily could swear the man grew three shades paler. “Oh! Oh, Merlin, Lily.”

“Yeah.” She took another sip. “Your doppelganger practically gave me the business, and I didn’t realize who he was until he took off his hood, like, way too late.” He looked away, bracing his hands against the patio railing. Harry was stunned. He gazed back out over the ocean.

“So, I was... fully naked?” He croaked. "All over you?"

“No, thank the gods. Nearly, but no,” she said. “And the girls wanted to leave right away, like, go somewhere else.”

“Naturally.”

“But the damage had been done. Imagine my great joy upon running away from you just to run into you.” Her head swam from the booze and surreality.

"Look, I can go if you-"

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "This is your house." He nodded grimly and could only think to just keep drinking. The two were silent for a while, listening to the waves crashing on the stony shore. Harry searched for something to say, but he only found himself grabbing the bottle from her hands and taking another big gulp.

At length, he rasped, “I’ll introduce a piece of legislation before the Wizengamot to have Juicing made illegal. It really should have been outlawed ages ago.”

“Yeah, well, that ship’s sailed,” she said wryly. He shifted on his feet, still aching with the need to say the right thing to soothe his poor daughter’s humiliation.

“I can imagine how that would ruin your night.” His voice was stilted and alien, and he knew he wasn’t helping.

Suddenly, her eyes grew with a bitter light. “ _Can_ you?” She demanded. "Can you imagine being incredibly turned on by your naked father rubbing his dick all over you?”

“You said I wasn't naked...”

“You _know_ what I mean,” she hissed, but immediately, her head swam with the realization of what she had just confessed. “Fuck, I’m so drunk.” She wavered on her feet and nearly toppled forward, grabbing at the railing to steady herself. She felt a reassuring hand on the small of her back.

“Careful,” came his warm voice. “It won’t do to bash your head open two nights before your wedding day.” The inexplicable bitterness still coursed through her.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine Lorcan would want to fuck me with a black eye.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Wouldn’t you?” She demanded, turning to look at him. “Don’t you think I’m beautiful? Your doppelgänger certainly did.” He took an unconscious step backwards.

“Of course, I think you’re beautiful,” he said with a tight laugh. “You’re my little Lil.” He ruffled her hair in a mechanical sort of way, because he suddenly had no clue what to do with his hands.

“No, like…” She batted his hand away. “Like, pretend you’re not my father.”

His brow knit as he insisted, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Oh, and why not?”

“It’s not exactly the kind of thing that comes naturally,” he said weakly, floundering in the tempest of her changing emotions. “You’re my baby. My brain doesn’t work that way.”

“Yeah, but you’re a man. Aren’t you guys, like, always horny or something?”

“I’m not some trifling teenaged boy anymore,” he hissed. “And you're my daughter.” Schooling himself again, he reasoned, “Lily, this isn’t appropriate conversation.” Immediately, she lost her vitriol and practically crumbled against the railing.

“I’m sorry. Blame the whisky.” Harry watched her with confused empathy, worried at the agony twisting her lovely face.

“Blame the demon living inside you, more like,” he said affectionately.

“Hardy har har,” she bitterly quipped. She bit her lip and grimaced, blurting, “Daddy, I’m nervous.” He sighed helplessly.

“You just need another smoke.” He fumbled with the pack for a moment, trying to steady his shaking hands.

“I’m being serious.”

He shook his head as he finally managed to loose a cigarette, which he offered to his daughter. She dismissed the offering with a wave of her freckled hand. “Lily, married life is pretty good. Difficult at times, but you’re strong and smart. The nerves are natural, but…”

“I’m not nervous about that,” she groaned. “Lorcan’ll be a great husband.”

“Then what?”

“What we talked about earlier.”

“What, the whole… virgin thing?”

“Yeah, the whole virgin thing.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I can get your mum. She can give you advice.”

“ _Daddy_ ,” Lily interjected with a reproachful glare. “I’d just _die_ if you forced me to have that conversation with her.”

“Then what do you want from me?” He flinched at how defensive he sounded all of a sudden. She didn’t answer, just looked at him with tumultuous eyes. Cautiously, he said, “Lily, I can hear the gears turning in your brain, and I don’t like it.” She set the bottle down the ground and gaze up at him intensely.

“ _Jus primae noctis_.”

He lips grew tight. “No.”

“Daddy,” she said gravely.

“Absolutely not.” He turned away from her, walking to the other side of the patio. “You’re impossibly drunk.”

“Daddy, please, it’s hard enough bringing this up to you,” she pled.

He grimaced. “Lily, that ritual hasn’t been practiced for centuries and for good reason.” He put his hands on his hips in a manner Lily was she that he thought was intimidating. “Besides, there’s no proof it even works like the lore says. It's just an old legend dirty schoolboys tell each other for cheap laughs.”

She looked down at her hands. Quietly, pathetically, she whispered, “You said you’d help me. How is this any different from-”

“How is this any different?” He barked. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh, _Dumbledore_ , you just-”

“ _Don’t_ say his name right now,” the man hissed through gritted teeth. “Not when you’re asking me what I think you’re asking me.”

Her shoulders dropped, and she sighed, “Would you please just consider it?”

“I’m your father.”

“Which, I believe, makes you singularly qualified to carry out the ritual.”

“I can’t have this conversation with you.” He threw his hands up before Vanishing his cigarette and Scourgifying the smoke from his clothes. “I’m going back to the party. You should consider doing the same.”

“Daddy!” She shrieked. He ignored her as he made for the door.

“Good night, Lily.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedback! It's the only pay we humble fic writers get, and it really means the world to me!
> 
> Also, if you guys like father/son sinning and are LOTR fans, I'm writing a Legolas/Thranduil modern AU that you can read [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7856410/chapters/17939230).
> 
> Also also, you can find [my tumblr](http://catarrhini.tumblr.com) here. I love chatting with you crazy people. :D


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